


The Interview

by IAm_Inimitable



Category: Merlin (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Based on a Tumblr Post, Demons, Epic Battles, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Journalism, Monsters, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAm_Inimitable/pseuds/IAm_Inimitable
Summary: New York City is under siege. A team of heroes battle the rising tide of villians to protect the people and the city they love.Percy Jackson, aka Poseidon, struggles with feelings for his best friend and with rising fear of what this rising number of monsters might mean.Alec Lightwood, aka Shadowhunter, isn’t afraid of demons. He is afraid of the unfairly attractive journalist who keeps looking for an interview.Arthur Pendragon, aka Red Knight, has a company to run and a hero identity to protect. He has no time for strange dreams, or the call to a place called Albion.Annabeth Chase and Magnus Bane both want out of their current places at Pendragon News. The key to climbing to the top? For Annabeth, its an interview with Poseidon. For Magnus, its an interview with Shadowhunter.Merlin wants an interview with Red Knight, but it isnt to rise up in the company. He just wants answers as to why the knight keeps telling him to go to Albion.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not 'The Interview' with Seth Rogan, sorry.
> 
> This is based off a Tumblr prompt I saw reposted here on AO3, basically saying 'imagine your OTP where Person A is a superhero and Person B is a journalist looking for an interview' and inspiration hit me like a bolt of lightning.
> 
> I couldn't decide between three pairs so I put them all in the story.

The City That Never Sleeps certainly lived up to its name.

It was Friday. The sun had just gone down. The whole city seemed to be holding its breath as people prepared to go out. It was gearing up to be a great night.

Two figures met in an abandoned building, high above the city.

One of them, wearing a green-blue suit with golden armour and a trident strapped to his back, looked around, green eyes burning with suspicion under his mask.

“Where's the ninja?”

A third figure, dressed all in black, melted out of the shadows. “Here.”

The first man jumped. “ _Jesus,_ my dude, could you _not_?!”

“My apologies, Poseidon. I was merely announcing my presence.” the dark figure said. There was amusement in the edges of his tone.

Poseidon huffed. “You could just _stay visible,_ Shadowhunter. I dont want to die from a heart attack tonight.”

The third figure, silent until now, spoke. 

“Plans, Poseidon?” His voice echoed slightly behind the full-face metal helmet he wore. 

“It’s _Friday night_ , Red _._ Hell yeah I’ve got plans. I’m going out with my friends tonight.”

The man he spoke to did not react to the shortening of his name, which was in fact Red Knight in homage to his armour and red cape. His posture didn’t change at all, but somehow he still managed to give the impression that he was raising an eyebrow.

Poseidon huffed. “I’ve told you guys. As long as the trident is in my possession I have my powers. When I’m in civilian mode it’s still with me, just hidden. I can’t bail on my friends or they’ll ask _questions_. I’ll still be on duty. We’ll mainly be by the waterfront anyway.” 

“And you’ll keep an eye out for trouble?” Red Knight asked. 

“I won't have to. Trouble finds me, and it’s usually accompanied by a lot of screaming people.”

Red Knight nodded. “I will also be out, but we will mainly be near the middle of the city, so I can keep an eye out there. Shadowhunter?”

Shadowhunter glanced away and shifted his weight. “My brother is dragging me out. I have no idea where I will be, but you know I’m always vigilant.”

Red Knight gave a single nod. “Very well. If any trouble occurs tonight, we will see it.”

“Can’t promise I’ll be sober but I’ll be there," Poseidon said. When Red Knight radiated disapproval, he rolled his eyes. “I don't get drunk that easily and you know it, Red.”

“Stay on guard, Poseidon,” Shadowhunter warned. “The demons of the dark are restless, and so are the monsters of the deep. This night is a cesspool of human emotion and they will be eager to feed.”

Poseidon groaned. “Could you please, just _once_ , talk like you’re from this century?”

“This shit is, like, straight-up dangerous, bro.” Shadowhunter deadpanned.

Poseidon winced. “Never mind, that’s somehow weirder.”

“We will be on guard.” Red Knight said firmly. “These recent attacks are not to be taken lightly. We don’t know where these new monsters came from, but these people are under our protection. We must do all we can.”

Shadowhunter and Poseidon nodded. This was the one thing they all agreed on: nothing messed with New York City if they had anything to say about it. 

And they were superheroes. They had a lot to say about it.

For now, all they could do was wait for the next attack.

**_…_ **

Alec Lightwood had just finished getting ready when Jace burst through his door.

“Let’s go, bro, Clary’s on her way to get us and she is _not_ patient…”

Alec let Jace’s voice wash over him as his brother manhandled him into the living room of their tiny apartment. Izzy was already there, dressed to the nines as usual, her dark hair tumbling in loose curls down her back and her lips painted dark red. Her dress was black and shorter and tighter than anything Alec was comfortable seeing his baby sister in, but he knew saying anything would get his face rearranged, so he kept his mouth shut and took the cup Jace offered him.

“Where’s Max?” he asked instead. 

Izzy smiled and drank from her own cup. “At home with the babysitter. I am allowed to have fun, Alec.”

“That's not what I’m saying.” Alec said gently. “He’s my nephew. I just want to make sure he’s safe.”

“Alec, you gotta catch up.” Jace told him. “Pregame, bro. You’re seriously behind.”

Alec rolled his eyes and drank. “Remind me why I said yes to tonight again?”

“Aww, Alec.” Izzy teased. “You say that like you had a choice.”

**_…_ **

The door to Arthur's apartment busted open.

“WHAT UP MOTHAFUCKAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” came a yell from the hallway.

Arthur sighed, closing his eyes and praying for strength, shoving his pendant under his shirt before he turned around.

“Gavin.” he said calmly. “I see we’ve been pregaming already.”

“Ah, dig the stick out of your ass and join me!” Gavin replied, still a little loudly. Arthur was sure he’d be getting a complaint from his neighbor Karen tomorrow.

But then again, it was Friday night. A long week of running Pendragon News and superheroing on the side had taken a lot out of Arthur. He hadn't been able to go out last time because of a ‘work emergency’, aka something called a Shax demon attacking a group of teenagers. 

Arthur grabbed the bottle of Fireball from Gavin’s unresisting hand and took two long swallows. The whiskey burned in the best way possible on its way down, and he threw his head back and whooped when he was done.

“Oh dear Lord.” muttered Leo, who had just entered behind his friends. “This is gonna be a long night for me.”

Arthur’s sister, Morgan, bounced in behind her boyfriend and stole the bottle from her brother, taking a swig. 

“That's what you get for losing a bet, babe.” she said cheerfully. “Lets go!”

**_…_ **

Percy and Piper were trying to match each other shot for shot while a horrified Jason looked on.

“Guys, the others aren't even here yet, can you slow down?”

Percy threw back a Jaeger Bomb with a loud “NOPE!” 

Piper matched him with a Lemon Drop and they both yelled “WOO!” at the same time.

Leo popped up at their table with his usual crazy grin and stole one of Percy’s shots.

“Next round's on me!” he yelled, running towards the bar before Percy punched him. Annabeth, right behind him, shook her head. 

“You guys are going to be hopeless tomorrow.”

“We don't have to work tomorrow.” Percy laughed. Piper stretched around him to offer Annabeth another Lemon Drop.

“Come on, girl, you had a rough week,” she coaxed when Annabeth seemed hesitant. 

“Yeah.” Percy said, smiling at his best friend. “You deserve this!”

Annabeth took the shot, but still seemed hesitant. 

“Come oonnnn.” Percy told her. “If you don't start drinking now, you’re gonna be bored and trying to help Jason and Frank take care of all of us.”

Annabeth winced, having been stuck in that position before, and downed the shot.

Leo came back with a round of whipped-cream topped glasses.

“Blowjob time, bitches!” he announced, and when a newly arrived Hazel looked horrified, Leo quickly clarified “The shot, Haze. The drink. Not an actual BJ.”

Here he shot a lascivious grin around the table. “Unless anyone's interested?”

He was immediately hit in several places, though they all laughed as they did, then proceeded to each grab a shot and down it.

Jason and Frank shot each other horrified looks.

They were in for a long night.

**_…_ **

Magnus, for once, was spending his Friday night in. 

Since his breakup with Camille, he’d been going out a lot more, but he was exhausted tonight. Plus, he had a lot of things on his mind that alcohol wouldn't wash away.

Number one being the security guard at work. 

Alec was the only name Magnus had been able to get out of him. Tall, dark and handsome, with muscles enough to make Magnus weak-kneed. An adorable blush that made an appearance whenever Magnus got flirty, which happened to be every day since the guy had started working at Pendragon News. 

Unfortunately, the guy was impossible to find. He didn't have any social media Magnus could find (and he was the king of Instagram stalking) and didn't appear to have a social life outside of work. He was also awkward as hell, which only endeared Magnus to him more.

Then there was the small matter of Magnus’s job.

Despite a great boss, great coworkers, and now a gorgeous guy to drool over, Magnus wasn’t happy with his job. He wanted to write things that interested him, but he kept getting stuck with boring stories like obituaries and want ads.

Magnus had known he wanted to be a writer all his life. But this job didn't appear to be getting him anywhere closer to that goal.

At least he had Instagram to keep him busy.

**_…_ **

Merlin was also spending the night in, but for different reasons.

His friend Gavin had invited him out, but he was going to be bringing Merlin’s boss with him, and Merlin was sure that was a line he wasn't supposed to cross while they still worked together.

Gwen had also called. She and Lance were heading to a wine tasting and she had asked if Merlin wanted to come along. Gwen and Lance were wonderful and Merlin did love them, but third-wheeling all night was not his idea of a good time. 

So instead, he was at home, mixing _Harry Potter_ -themed drinks just because he could and watching _Supernatural_. 

Merlin had another reason for not wanting to go out, but he wasn’t telling anyone that.

With Destiel sexual tension in the background, Merlin concentrated on his glass across the room.

He held out his hand.

And slowly, jerkily, the glass lifted and wobbled its way across the room to land in Merlin's palm.

He took a swig and groaned.

He could control this new power to an extent, but he needed to be completely relaxed, and the drinks helped with that. He thought the _Harry Potter_ theme was a nice touch that helped him get in the right headspace.

(It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was a massive nerd.)

He had no idea how this power had happened. Nothing weird had happened beforehand. In fact, his life had been looking up. He’d found a place to live that wasn’t his eccentric uncle’s basement. He’d made several good friends. He’d started a new job that paid well, with a good boss (even if Arthur could be a clotpole sometimes and just where the hell had that insult come from.)

Then the dreams had begun. And with the dreams came the magic.

There was no other word for it. He suddenly had magic and he didn't know what to do.

It came out at the oddest times. Usually when he felt a huge rush of emotion, which was why going out was a bad idea. Merlin was an emotional drunk.

The dreams were no help. 

In the dreams, Merlin was usually running. Through the woods or through an old stone city he’d never seen before.He wore strange clothes. Sometimes he spoke a strange language and magic happened. Other times he yelled a command in deep, guttural tones and somehow summoned a fucking dragon.

Those weren’t even the strangest parts.

In these dreams, Merlin was always accompanied by a man. A knight, wearing a full suit of armour and a red cape. The knight fought by his side. Merlin felt that this man was a friend, possibly the best he’d ever had.

And then, at some point, the knight would turn to him and say “Come home, Merlin. Come to Albion. Your destiny awaits.”

Merlin always woke up freaking the absolute fuck out.

Where was Albion? Why was it home? He had a destiny?

And why did he have such a longing to go somewhere he was damn sure he’d never been?

All he knew was that the knight had the answers for him. 

And that knight was currently in New York.

**_…_ **

Annabeth woke up the next morning hungover as all hell.

The sun peeking through her blinds was clearly against her. She scowled as her head throbbed and flopped face-down into her pillow, yanking the blanket over her head.

She needed to stop trying to match Piper and Percy when they drank. It never ended well for her, since unlike her friends, she wasn't an alcoholic. 

Her problem was that she was too damn competitive. And her friends knew that and used it to their advantage. Assholes.

Piper was right, though. It had been a long week. Annabeth was sick and tired of her _freaking coworkers_. 

There were coworkers she liked, but the ones she worked closely with were not the nicest. They treated her like a dumb blonde secretary, there for coffee deliveries and eye candy, and shot down every idea she had and refused to listen or give her any good stories.

Annabeth hadn’t even wanted to be a journalist anyway. She wanted to be an architect. Unfortunately, her money ran out before she could finish school, so apartment with Piper and journalism it was. 

Pendragon News wasn’t a _bad_ place. It was just the team of jerks Annabeth worked with that made it unbearable.

What she needed was a big break. A story no one could ignore. She had visions of marching straight into the office of Arthur Pendragon himself and handing him a full story, complete with pictures, front page material. Something that could transfer her out of the place she was and onto a new team. 

She was pretty sure the way to accomplish that lay in NYC’s three resident heroes.

She could try for Shadowhunter, but the man was barely ever seen. Red Knight was too cliche, and he was the one reporters interviewed most, seeing as he was the face of his little team of supers. He was the easy option. The easy option wouldn’t get Annabeth noticed.

Poseidon, however…

Poseidon was more visible than Shadowhunter, but he usually let Red Knight handle everything press-related. He usually stood there, off to the side, smirking at the crowd.

An interview with him, plus some pictures of the man himself in action? 

That was worth a transfer.

For now, though, Annabeth had a hangover to sleep off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter two!

There was an attack on Monday.

Percy wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew that was impossible. So he quickly dressed for work and slapped his trident bracelet to summon his Poseidon disguise.

The attack was a monster, which Percy was honestly relieved by. Last time it had been a demon of some kind. Demons were Shadowhunters territory.

But monsters? Those Percy could handle.

The monster this time was a massive crab, screaming in anger in the middle of Central Park while people screamed and ran. It snapped its claws, foamed at the mouth, smashed things, and generally made life interesting for New Yorkers. 

Percy hated it when these things were in the middle of the city. Last time he’d had to tear up the street and a nearby building to use his power on the water lines, which had cost New York a fair bit of damage and had not made him very popular with the press. 

It looked like he’d have to do it again with the parks sprinkler system. Great.

He ran into the crabs view. “Hey, crabcakes!”

The thing whipped around to face him, beady eyes staring straight at Percy. Its barnacle encrusted claws snapped menacingly.

“What are you doing here?” Percy yelled. “Looking for something shiny?”

He was quite proud of that Disney reference, but apparently the crab didn't appreciate his wit. It charged him, screaming. 

Percy hadn't been aware crabs  _ could _ scream.

“You really do learn something new every day.” he muttered, unstrapping his trident from his back. 

There was no way he could penetrate the shell of the crab, so he sprinted forward and used the butt of the trident like a pole vault, launching himself up and over its head to land on its back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a camera flash, but chose to ignore it as the fucking crab roared, stopped charging, and started trying to grab him off its back.

He started dodging, parrying its claws with the trident, going through everything he knew about crabs (which wasn't much) and keeping its attention on him and away from civilians.

_ Where in the fuck were… _

Shadowhunter appeared out of nowhere, his strange glowing blade in his hand. He too sprang onto the crabs back and started parrying its claws as well.

This angered the crab, who started spinning in circles. Percy was barely able to keep his footing, but Shadowhunter, the bastard, barely stumbled.

“Can you talk to it?” he yelled over the crabs screams.

“I cant talk to crabs!” Percy yelled back. “I don't know why!” 

Red Knight suddenly appeared, leveling his sword at the massive crustacean.

“What ho!” he shouted, and charged it. 

The crab was up for this challenge. It returned the charge.

Percy knew what would happen when the crab collided with Red. He nodded at Shadowhunter and sprang from the crabs back just in time.

Red Knight locked his sword with the crabs claws, locking them both in place as each strained against the other. Their planted feet left deep dents in the ground as each refused to yield.

Of course, the second the crab was occupied, Percy remembered something his stepfather Paul had taught him as a teenager.

“We need to flip it over!” he yelled.

Another camera flash, from somewhere close by.

Percy didn’t even want to know which civilian was dumb enough to be taking pictures of the fight, but he’d learned a long time ago that civillians were just like that sometimes. He couldn't even spare the time to yell at whoever it was, as at that moment, the crab decided it was done, disengaged one claw, and grabbed for Red Knight.

Percy shouted a warning, though apparently that wasn't necessary, because Shadowhunter had their leader’s back. He sprang onto the massive claw, using his body weight to throw it aside, then spun around and fired an arrow at it.

The arrow barely made a dent in the crabs shell, but it sure made it mad. Mad enough to completely lose focus on Red Knight, who then proceeded to use his sword as a lever to flip the crab over.

As the crab fell, still screaming, Percy jumped, holding his trident, and plunged the middle point into the chink in the crabs armour, right in the middle of the crabs belly.

The thing shuddered, then went limp before dissolving into sand.

Percy managed to drag himself from the pile of sand and shot a look at Red Knight and Shadowhunter.

“We should probably get out of here before the press show up.” he said, and with a nod of acknowledgement they split up, running three separate directions to find a place to safely resume their civilian identities.

Percy hid in an empty alley to drop his disguise. Once back in his civilian clothes, he felt his phone vibrate.

It was a text from Annabeth.

_ Are you anywhere near central park? _

_ Yeah it's near work, y? _

_ Follow the press. _

A news van rushed by, so Percy followed it.

Back where the battle with the crab had taken place, a swarm of police and reporters were all over, taking witness statements and filming the pile of sand.

“Percy!”

That was Annabeth's voice, but Annabeth was nowhere to be seen.

“Up here.” her voice was sheepish.

Percy looked up and almost busted up laughing.

Annabeth was high in a tree, a camera hanging from her neck, staring at him with pleading gray eyes.

Percy laughed, came closer, and leaned on the trunk of the tree. “Hey there. You stuck?”

“No!” Annabeth's voice was defiant. 

“Of course not. Stupid of me to ask.” Percy kept his grin in place and raised an eyebrow up at her.

“Okay, I’m stuck.” Annabeth muttered. “Just get up here and help me, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy laughed. “Well, if the lady insists.”

He started to climb up, then paused and looked up at Annabeth again.

“Are you stuck like ‘I can't untangle myself from a tree branch’ or stuck like ‘I didn't realize I was scared of heights until this moment’?”

Annabeth paused, then ducked her head and sighed. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I’m not usually scared of heights.”

“Hey, it happens.” Percy said gently, and stepped back and held out his arms.

“Jump.”

“Are you nuts!? If I break this camera…”

“I’ll be gentle.” Percy teased.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, huffed, shot a glance at the reporters who were not paying attention, then closed her eyes and jumped.

Being a hero had some perks. Percy caught his friend easily without breaking the camera.

He grinned at her. “What were you doing up there, anyway?”

Annabeth flushed and looked away, muttering “Put me down, Seaweed Brain.” and pushing loose hair out of her face.

Percy did as she asked and bumped her lightly with his shoulder. “So?”

Annabeth heaved an annoyed sigh, then turned the camera to show him.

“I was trying to get pictures of Poseidon.”

Percy’s heart gave a surprised little jump.

“Oohh, does someone have a crush?” he teased automatically, leaning forward to look. Annabeth had some good shots of the battle, including one exceptionally cool one of Red Knight and the crab locked together, sword against claws.

Annabeth swatted him “Shut up, no I dont. I just…” 

She heaved a sigh, and she suddenly looked so weighed down Percy’s chest ached.

“I was hoping that if I could get some good pictures of him, maybe even an interview, I could take it straight to Mr. Pendragon and get noticed. Get transferred out of my current team and into a better one. I didn't get a lot of good ones, but maybe just a few will be enough.”

She clicked through the pictures again. Shadowhunter, as usual, was a blur of black in most pictures, but Annabeth had another cool one of Poseidon jumping to stab the crab, his trident held high above his head, face contorted in concentration.

“There's one,” Percy told her. “That would make a great front page.”

Annabeth sighed. “I just wish I’d gotten an interview.”

Percy got a very bad idea.

“Well next time, don't hide in a tree. Hide where he’s sure to run after the battle. Get him then, see if he’ll grant an interview.”

Percy wanted to claw the words back as soon as they left his mouth, but Annabeth's sudden beaming smile erased all his misgivings. 

“Sometimes you really surprise me, Seaweed Brain,” she said, and surprised him with a hug.

They’d been friends since freshman year of high school, and they were young adults now, but Percy could tell you every single time Annabeth had hugged him like this with perfect clarity. He wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes, breathing in her lemon shampoo and savoring this moment.

Sue him, he had a crush on his best friend and he would take what moments he could get.

Annabeth pulled back, still beaming.

“I need to head to work. I’ll run these,” she waved the camera triumphantly, “straight to Mr. Pendragon so Mark can’t steal them like he did last time. And next time there's a battle, I’ll get that interview!”

And off she went.

Percy watched her blonde curls disappear in the crowd and heaved a sigh.

He was screwed.

**_…_ **

“Merlin!”

Merlin turned at the sound of his name and spotted Annabeth Chase sprinting down the hallway towards him, holding a camera.

“I grabbed some pictures of the fight today, thought we could use them.”

Merlin felt a weight lift from his chest. The attack today had happened so quickly no Pendragon reporters had gotten pictures, and he was sure Lightwood News already had some. He’d been dreading giving that news to Arthur.

“Thanks, Annabeth, you’re a lifesaver. What exactly happened?”

“I’m not sure. They were fighting a giant crab. Poseidon and Shadowhunter kept it busy for a bit before Red Knight flipped it over so Poseidon could kill it. It turned to sand like the other monsters.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said gratefully, taking the camera from her. “I’ll tell Arthur you got these.”

Annabeth grinned at him before she turned and left, practically skipping with glee. She had all the makings of a good reporter, despite the reports of her supervisor. Merlin was pretty sure Brad was biased.

He continued on his way to Arthur's office.

Arthur was on a phone call when Merlin opened the door, his phone on speaker sitting on his desk. The voice of Robert Lightwood, sounding very smug, filled the room and Merlin didn't even bother to disguise his eye roll.

“A shame you couldn’t have seen it, Mr. Pendragon, it truly was an impressive battle.”

Merlin waved the camera and mouthed  _ pictures _ . Arthur grinned.

“Pictures were just delivered, Mr. Lightwood, so I’m sure I’ll see them soon.”

Silence on the other end. Merlin could just picture Robert Lightwood’s face and smirked.

Arthur returned his smirk, obviously imagining the same thing, then said calmly “Good day, Mr. Lightwood.” and hung up.

Both burst into laughter as soon as they heard that click. Robert Lightwood was a jerk. Making him speechless was a favorite pastime of theirs.

“Morning, Merlin.” Arthur said once he had finished laughing. “I must say, thanks for reminding me I had a meeting with my father this morning. Nice to have a PA who’s on top of things.”

Merlin handed him the coffee he’d brought as a peace offering with a sheepish smile.

Arthur sighed and accepted the coffee. “Honestly, Merlin, that's the third time this month. Are you capable of doing anything required of my PA?”

“Yes I am.” Merlin replied.

“Oh really? What are you capable of?”

“Putting up with you.” Merlin said, grinning at him. “And remembering your coffee order.”

Arthur took a sip and sighed.

“For those two traits you consider yourself invaluable?”

They eyed each other for a moment before breaking into wide grins.

“Fortunately for you I can’t stand George, and he can never get my coffee right. I’ll smooth things over with my father but don’t let it happen again, Merlin.”

“Of course not.” Merlin grinned. They both knew it would happen again, and they both knew Arthur didn't really care. He’d taken over Pendragon News when his father Uther had developed Alzheimers, and Uther liked to call Merlin and schedule ‘meetings’ for his son that included Uther telling Arthur how awful of a job he was doing running the company.

Merlin rather thought he was doing Arthur a favor by ‘forgetting’ about these meetings.

  
However, he also tried his best to avoid pissing Uther off  _ too _ badly, because as competent of a nurse as Gwen was, Uther was a crafty SOB and was not above escaping his house and coming down to Pendragon News personally to try and “fix” things.

That had been a disaster.

Merlin did have work to do, so he excused himself off to check on the rest of the office.

Arthur liked knowing how everything in his company was running, and he trusted Merlin to check on it all for him. Merlin had a knack for going unnoticed, while Arthur’s presence commanded attention and meant that everyone suddenly was busy.

Merlin took a few phone calls, deciding which ones were pranks and which ones were legitimate, forwarding the legitimate ones to Arthur's office phone and politely telling the prank callers and conspiracy theorists where to shove it. He ran through the business office and political office, shooting a sympathetic glance at Annabeth where she sat, clearly bored, in the sports office while her coworkers blabbed in the corner.

Annabeth was wasted in the Sports section, a sentiment that Merlin had mentioned to Arthur several times. However, she couldn't be transferred to another office...yet. She was still considered on probation, and needed to prove herself first.

Merlin ran by Ads next, where he was just in time to catch Magnus Bane dramatically casting himself into his chair in boredom while his coworkers rolled their eyes.

Magnus was another new hire, filling a position that Merlin knew was boring. He had the potential for so much more (Merlin personally would have recommended him to Entertainment) but until he could prove he was a serious journalist he was stuck with want ads and obituaries.

Merlin ran up to IT and Security offices next. He was greeted by Simon and Leo, the evil genius twins, apparently taking apart a computer. The angelic grin Leo shot Merlin when he saw him was not reassuring in the slightest.

Merlin shot them a warning glance, too busy right now to deal with their bullshit, and ducked into Security. Alec Lightwood, who had just clocked in, nodded in his direction, which meant he was in an exceptionally good mood. Alec had begun working for Pendragon News after his discharge from the military, and when pressed why he was working for his family’s competitor, he said simply that he and his family were not on speaking terms. He was a stone-faced man that was almost never rattled...unless he happened to be working near the Ads office, where Magnus Bane worked. Merlin had to hide a smirk.

Working with him was Raphael Santiago, who also nodded in Merlin's direction. Merlin rolled his eyes to himself as he left. The Security office would be quiet today, it seemed.

Merlin then got himself up to the filming room, where the morning show was just wrapping up. Jason, the weather man, gave Merlin a grin and a thumbs-up: the show had gone well. 

Gavin, who was wrapping up his usual monologue, was completely focused on the camera, his megawatt smile on full display. Next to him, Pierce was sipping his coffee. 

Elijah, the cameraman, gave the signal that the cameras were switched off, and Gavin immediately jumped up, came over and slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders, tousling his hair while he was at it.

“There he is!” Gavin crowed. 

Merlin tried unsuccessfully to free himself. Pierce snickered into his mug.

Glaring at his friend's helpfulness, Merlin squirmed until he’d freed himself and did his best to adjust his clothes and hair into some sort of professionalism. This was a lost cause even on a normal day, but he felt the effort was warranted.

“Hey Merlin.” said Elijah, who apparently possessed the ability to act like an adult while at work. “Morning show went great, as usual. People love the banter between these two.”

“Is that hashtag still trending?” Gavin asked eagerly.

Elijah rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Merlin groaned. “Please don’t tell me it's  _ that  _ hashtag…”

Gavin whipped out his phone and opened Twitter, where, sure enough, the hashtag #hotnewsanchor was trending, attached to pictures of Gavin on the news or from his Tinder account and full of people drooling over him.

_ That wink SENT ME. _ read one tweet, where a video of Gavin winking at the camera was attached.  _ #gavin #hotnewsanchor  _

“Do not reply to any of them.” Merlin warned. 

Gavin grinned at him.

“I’m serious.” Merlin said sternly. “You reply inappropriately and Morgan will have your head. Possibly literally.”

Knowing Arthur's sister, Gavin winced and put his phone away.

“If it makes you or Morgan feel any better about it,” Jason cut in, pulling his own phone out, “That hashtag brings in a lot of attention to the morning show, way more then Lightwood’s does.”

They all collectively smirked. 

“What's with the new guy they’ve got?” Pierce laughed. “Lorenzo or something like that? Dude just likes to hear himself talk. Even when there are people on air being interviewed, he talks over them. He even talks over the  _ weatherman _ . And Camille is no better.”

“Bitch,” muttered Merlin. 

He glanced at his watch and jumped.

“Guys I gotta go, good job on the morning show, go home and get some rest. Gavin, you're off tonight, Arthur wants to do the evening show. Some kind of superhero special update.”

Gavin shot him a thumbs up. “You got it.”

Jason, still thumbing through Twitter, suddenly snorted.

Meeting their confused glances, he held up his phone.

“They aren’t just talking about Gavin.”

He showed them a string of tweets discussing Pierce.

_ #hotnewsanchor can wrap me up in those arms anytime he wants #biceps #drooling _ read one. 

Another one just read  _ DADDY #hotnewsanchor _ .

Merlin snorted at that one while Pierce flushed bright red.

Gavin burst into laughter and clapped a still-blushing Pierce on the back.

“Don’t worry about it man, I’ve had worse ones sent to me…”

Merlin sighed and got out of there before he was any later.

Arthur had a meeting with the companie's legal team and he’d asked Merlin to be there. He slid into his seat just in time.

Arthur shot him a Look but said nothing, simply started the meeting. Leo, part of the legal team, raised an eyebrow and smirked: they both knew that if it had been anyone else Arthur would have torn them a new one right there.

Merlin had the ability to worm his way into anyone's good graces, and he knew he was firmly in Arthurs no matter how badly he fucked up.

Still, he did his best at his job: Arthur wasn’t  _ that _ patient.

**_…_ **

Alec rounded the corner, doing his best to appear unruffled and bored.

The minute he was out of sight he started hyperventilating.

_ Get it together, dammit! _

He was a superhero. He’d trained with the Nephilim Order monks for years. He was one of the greatest archers in the world. He fought literal demons and monsters on a regular basis without batting an eye.

So why was he undone so quickly by a flirty comment and a wink from Magnus Bane?

Alec took a deep breath and dropped his head into his hands.

It was unfair how easily Magnus could destroy his composure, leaving him stuttering and blushing bright red. He’d never blushed in his life until he’d met the man.

He’d known he was attracted to him from the first moment he saw him, chatting to a reporter after a battle. Alec had hidden in a nearby building to detransform, and he spent several minutes hiding and watching the gorgeous man talk, gesturing with ringed hands, nail polish sparkling in the light.

When Alec had discovered that he and this gorgeous man were working in the same building, he’d learned his name.

Magnus Bane.

It fit him so well. 

Alec had been content watching Magnus from afar (not in a creepy way, he swore.) He liked catching little glimpses of the man when he was patrolling, and hearing snippets of his voice when he stopped by the Ads office to get coffee.

He was used to watching crushes from far away, never getting close, never letting anyone see. Even after his training and being accepted by Izzy, it was a conditioned response to feeling attraction: shove it down, lock it up, never let it show.

He’d never expected Magnus to start  _ flirting  _ with him!

It  _ was not fair _ . Magnus was cool and suave and stylish. He had charmed just about everybody in the building. Alec’s coworker, Raphael, was a good friend of his and said the man was selfless and generous to a fault. Why on earth would he have a crush on  _ Alec _ of all people?

But apparently the man did, because the first time they’d ever spoken, Magnus had paused in the doorway of the break room where Alec was making coffee and ran a slow, appreciative gaze over him, from head to toe. Alec had sworn he could feel that gaze like a physical touch.

He’d pretended not to notice, until Magnus had stepped in, smiling and making small talk. Alec answered while he waited for his coffee to brew.

It wasn’t until Alec poured himself a cup and took a sip that Magnus asked “Are you single?”

Alec had almost done a spit take.

He’d answered, cautiously, that he was single, and Magnus had smiled an incredibly gorgeous smile and stepped right up into Alec’s personal space.

“Then, pretty boy, how would you like to join me for a drink?”

Because Alec apparently had no self preservation, he’d blurted out “Uh, sure...when?”

Magnus smiled up at him. His eyeshadow shimmered gold and it was  _ really distracting okay? _ He blamed the eyeshadow for making him lose his filter.

“How about tonight?”

Tonight Alec had patrol, so he’d stuttered something about “Not tonight, maybe some other time,” and slipped away, trying to hide his blush.

(He missed Magnus’s response, which was a smirk as he picked up his own coffee.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” he muttered. “I love a challenge…”)

It was overwhelming. Alec wasn’t used to being flirted with (or at, in this case, he wasn’t sure how to respond so he tended to shut down). He refused to ask Izzy for advice because he knew she’d just tease him  _ and he got enough of that from his coworkers, thank you. _

He wanted to be as suave as Magnus, wanted to flirt back and sweep him off his feet, but Alec wasn’t much of a charmer. He’d never been. He’d been blunt and awkward since he learned to talk.

Izzy and Jace were the smooth talkers, but the thought of asking Jace how to sweet-talk the most gorgeous man Alec had ever seen was a terrifying prospect to say the least. Besides, he knew Jace would tease worse than Izzy, and he didn't want to deal with it.

So in a nutshell, Alec was screwed.

He was too awkward to actually  _ talk  _ to Magnus, and too smitten to stop for his coffee somewhere else, so they almost always ended up together in the break room, Magnus flirting and on a few occasions actually  _ touching  _ him (Alec had blacked out the first time Magnus had touched him, just a lingering hand on his hip so Magnus could get by) and Alec a constant shade of beetroot and stuttering.

Somehow this didn't put Magnus off.

**_…_ **

Magnus was having the time of his life.

One, Cat was over, which was always lovely since he rarely got to see her. Two, he was sipping a perfectly made martini. And three, the topic of conversation was Alec.

He had been extolling Alec’s many virtues to Cat over a progressively more drunken night, as they continued to swap work stories (Cat worked as an ER nurse) and gush about crushes.

Okay, again, that last part was mostly Magnus.

“He’s just so  _ hot, _ ” he groaned for possibly the fourth or fifth time (he’d lost track of math somewhere around his third martini). “Those  _ eyes _ , Cat, and those  _ muscles _ , and  _ that ass _ .” He groaned in appreciation. 

“If he’s so hot, why haven’t I met him? I figured you guys would be fucking like rabbits at this point,” Cat asked, voice slurring a bit. (She was on her third vodka cranberry.) 

Magnus shrugged. “He’s shy. I talk to him and he can’t keep up his end. He gets this deer in the headlights look, and he blushes, and stammers, and sometimes he bites his lip and I have to keep from bending over right there in the middle of the break room.”

Cat winced. “Too much information.”

“Like you haven’t done it at work.”

“Irrelevant.” Cat said primly, sipping her drink.

Magnus laughed, then sobered again (as much as he could at this point.) 

“Honestly, Cat, he’s... different.”

Cat tilted her head.

Magnus elaborated, staring down into his glass.

“He’s awkward yes, and that's flattering; it’s been a long time since someone found me that attractive. But he’s sweet too. The first time I saw him outside of work, a battle had just happened, and he came out of nowhere: he must have just followed the press vans. There was a little boy by himself, scared and crying, and Alec sat next to him and comforted him. He smiled: I’d never seen him smile before, and Cat…” Magnus sighed dreamily. “He’s got a fantastic smile.”

“And he’s brave. He’s a Lightwood, and I’ve heard he and his family weren’t on speaking terms. Distancing yourself from your family takes a lot of courage, and he clearly has that in spades.”

Magnus twirled his glass between his fingers.

“There’s something about him, Cat. I’ll be the first to admit I know next to nothing about him. I don't know what it is that draws me to him, but he’s magnetic. Every time he speaks I want to hear him say more, just so I can bask in the cadence of his voice. I want to hear him laugh. I want to  _ make _ him laugh. I want to see him smile again, but this time I want to see him smile at me.”

He looked up at his friend, who now looked deeply concerned.

“Ever since Camille, I’ve closed myself off from feeling anything new for anyone. It was just too painful. He’s unlocked something in me.”

Cat reached out to put a hand on Magnus’s forearm, and they sat there in silence for a little while, Magnus’s confession hanging in the air between them.

**_…_ **

Arthur sat back in his chair and took a deep breath.

Alone in his office, he found himself absently fiddling with the pendant around his neck, usually tucked away under his collar. He pulled it out, examining it for the thousandth time.

It didn’t appear to be anything special, just a circle of silver on a thin, nondescript chain. It was stamped with a dragon. If asked, Arthur said it was a family heirloom.

In truth, he’d been sitting in his apartment when a package had been delivered for him. There was no return address, just his name and address in oddly old-fashioned handwriting he didn’t recognize. The package, when opened, turned out to be a wooden box containing the necklace and a letter.

The letter wasn’t signed. It said, simply,  _ For Camelot, _ in the oddly old-fashioned handwriting on the package.

Arthur had acknowledged that this was weird, but the symbol on the pendant looked oddly familiar. He figured the answer to this mystery would come to him eventually, and he put on the necklace and continued about his day.

That night, he dreamed of a battle. He heard himself yell the words on the paper. He dreamed of lighting bolts diving from the sky to strike what he instinctively knew were his enemies.

He woke up with a start, panting hard and feeling a sharp pain in his side.

He checked with each of his friends who he thought would be likely to send him the necklace, even Morgan. Nobody fessed up, and Arthur felt uneasily that they were all telling the truth.

The dreams got worse. Arthur fought in many battles. He led armies. He walked the streets of an old stone city. He saw Gwen, wearing a gown straight out of a Renaissance Fair, riding beside him and laughing, though he knew he’d never taken Gwen horseback riding and he’d never seen her wear a gown like that. He laughed around a campfire with his friends, though all were wearing suits of armor and red capes. He saw Morgan stalking toward him, wearing a tattered black dress and her eyes flashing gold. 

In all of these dreams, he felt someone just behind him, always there, steady and constant as the stones in castle walls (just where that reference had come from he didn't know). He couldn’t see who was there, but he knew they were a friend, perhaps the best he’d ever had.

Then, one day, alone in his room and puzzling over the letter for the thousandth time and fiddling with the pendant, he said the words aloud.

“For Camelot.”

The words felt familiar in his mouth. 

Then he was wearing a full suit of armor, like the ones in his dreams, complete with a red cape around his shoulders, chain mail, a helmet that completely hid his face, and a sword sheathed at his side. The pendant became the clasp to the cape.

Arthur had freaked the absolute fuck out.

After several minutes of panicking and cursing and wondering why the weight of this armor seemed so familiar to his body, he noticed the letter on his bed had gained a new line. 

_ For Albion. _

Arthur tried saying it aloud, but nothing happened. After a few more minutes of panicking, he remembered what he’d been doing when he first transformed and he grabbed for the clasp of his cape.

“For Albion!”

The armor disappeared as if it had never existed, leaving Arthur standing in his bedroom clutching a necklace and doing his level best not to faint.

When he recovered from that first transformation, he practiced it a few more times. The sword at his hip could be unsheathed, and it’s weight in his hand was familiar and easy as long as he didn’t think about what exactly he was holding. Once he started to overthink was when things went a bit pear-shaped.

The slashes in the carpet and walls had been fun to explain to his landlord.

Once he became the Red Knight and met Poseidon and Shadowhunter, after they joined forces and settled into their new reality as superheroes, the dreams changed.

In these new dreams, Arthur found himself stumbling through densely packed trees, towards a place he didn’t know. He emerged on the shores of a lake, where a young woman wearing a wet purple gown stood, dark hair flowing down her back and smiling.

“You lost your destiny in the waters of Avalon,” she said. “You will find it again in the land of Albion. This is your quest, Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King.”

Then, Arthur would feel that same steady presence just behind him. He’d turn.

Before he could see who was behind him, he’d wake up.

He tried not to focus on these new dreams. He’d just gotten a new PA. His company was doing incredibly well. He had good friends. He moonlighted as the superhero Red Knight. He had enough on his plate without the weird prophetic dreams he barely understood.

But in quiet moments, he found his mind mulling over the name Albion, wondering why it sounded so familiar to him. Avalon, by the same token, sounded familiar, but there was an odd tang of fear to the word, and a feeling like water closing over his head.

He resolutely pushed those thoughts aside as Merlin poked his head in. 

“Arthur, you do realize you need to be ready for the evening show soon, right?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fully aware, thank you, Merlin. Just thinking.”

“You thinking?” Merlin said, as if this was something to be deeply concerned about. “Well, now I’m really worried.”

“Shut up,” Arthur shot back, grinning despite himself. Merlin returned with his own wide grin.

Arthur cleared his throat, finding it rather dry for some reason. “I’ll be out a minute. Just let me finish this up.” 

Merlin shrugged and ducked out.

Arthur sat back in his chair and took another deep breath. Then he tucked his pendant back under his shirt, straightened his collar, and stodd, grabbing his suit jacket.

The weird dreams could wait. He had enough to think about.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are my lifes blood and I love them and whoever left them, but I can't reply to them because I am Awkward Trash (TM) and never know what to say, so thank you to all who leave them.

**Chapter Three**

Percy walked into Leo's apartment with a groan and immediately dropped his stuff by the door. Working as a marine biologist at the New York Aquarium was his dream job and it was fun, but the work was exhausting as hell.

"I had to lead two tours today. Two tours full of obnoxious elementary schoolers," He called into the living room, where his friends had gathered on the couch and floor. A chorus of sympathetic groans answered him.

Annabeth, Jason, and Leo's boss, Arthur Pendragon, was doing a special update on the evening news about the city's heroes, which Percy was interested in seeing. He knew Mr. Pendragon would be fair in his assessment of the heroes performance, and Percy wanted to see if the public thought he was doing a decent job.

Annabeth scooted over on the couch to make room for him while Percy detoured to the kitchen to grab a drink. Piper, who was sipping on a mango White Claw, tipped her can in salute. Percy lifted his own White Claw (black cherry) in response and sat next to Annabeth, trying to ignore her thigh and hip pressed against his. He sat back and joined in on trading work stories: Piper, who worked for an anti-bullying nonprofit, had gotten into an argument with a homophobic protester while passing out flyers for a seminar. Apparently, Piper would have gladly fought him if her boss hadn’t been side-eyeing her, especially after the guy made a few choice comments about her race. Hazel, who worked at a vet's office as a tech, had been scratched by a little girls irate cat when trying to give it an X-Ray, then had to chase said cat down when it had escaped and been scratched again. Frank, who worked for the NYPD, had chased a man for four blocks on foot before the guy had tripped and went sprawling, then yelled about suing the NYPD for his pain and suffering as he was arrested. 

The jingle of the Pendragon News evening show cut through their idle chatter like a pistol shot, silencing them as Arthur Pendragon came on screen. 

Even through a screen the man was intimidating. He sat in his chair like a king on his throne, his gaze on the camera steady and piercing. Every word was measured and calm. He commanded everyone's attention. This was not a man who was easy to ignore.

Arthur ran through the kind of monsters that had made an appearance in New York, citing how people should keep themselves safe should they find themselves confronted with one. He admitted they knew little about demons, but stated that was because Shadowhunter dispatched them so quickly and declined to give any comment on them.

Knowing Shadowhunter, Percy was sure the phrase  _ declined to comment _ meant  _ ran the fuck away when approached by a reporter. _

“From the city of New York to our heroes, we say thank you.” Arthur stated. Pictures of the heroes flashed across the screen. Percy noticed that the picture of Poseidon was one Annabeth had taken and nudged her shoulder with a grin. She grinned back.

He snickered to himself when he noticed that Shadowhunters picture had been taken from the back.

“If you see a monster or a demon, do not panic.” Arthur advised. “Run the other direction. Alert others to stay away from that area. Stay out of the heroes or police officer's way and make way for paramedics or fire trucks. As long as we exercise common sense, we can help those keeping our city safe.”

Percy appreciated those guidelines. Casualties, he’d learned early on, were unavoidable in the hero business, especially in a big city, but the numbers could be greatly reduced if people would just  _ stay away. _

Arthur signed off after thanking everyone for watching, and Percy took another swig of his drink as chatter broke out again. 

His eyes caught on his bracelet.

It looked simple enough, like something you’d pick up in a souvenir shop somewhere near the beach: a thin sea-green band shot through with gold threads. A simple gold oval stamped with the imprint of a trident sat at the top of his wrist.

Knowing Percy’s love of the sea, no one questioned the bracelet when he started wearing it. He told everyone he’d bought it from a yard sale.

In truth, Percy had stolen it.

When he was in middle school, his mother had divorced Percy’s abusive stepfather Gabe, but they had barely had enough money to leave. The lawyer took everything else they had as Gabe refused to pay lawyer fees, and soon enough Percy and his mother were homeless, bouncing from shelter to shelter and sleeping on the streets when there was no room for them. His mother struggled to find and keep a job. Percy struggled to keep his grades up, but ADHD, dyslexia, and anger at their situation made it doubly hard to focus.

Percy and his mother lived like that for a year before Percy snapped.

He’d hit on a plan: he’d heard from a man at the shelter that the security cameras on the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s back entrance didn't work and hadn’t worked for years. The man had worked at the museum before being fired and falling on hard times.

Percy decided to sneak into the museum and steal a piece of art, maybe a few, and hide them, then demand ransom money for each piece in cash. His mother had just gotten a new job, all they needed was enough to pay the first few months rent and the security deposit on a new apartment.

This plan had many flaws, but Percy was thirteen and therefore saw none of them. 

The shelter they were staying at wasnt far from the museum, so Percy had packed a ski mask and flashlight in his school backpack and walked. No one thought twice about him: he just had to look like he was going somewhere.

He’d found the back entrance no problem, hiding around the corner to put on his mask. The door was locked, so Percy took a brick from a nearby construction site and bashed the knob until it broke, allowing him in.

Once in, Percy began to lose his nerve. He was in the archives of the museum: dark, dusty, and eerily silent. He had sudden visions of being taken to jail, of his mother crying. 

Percy summoned up his courage and turned on his flashlight.

He was in a section of the archives filled with Greek and Roman stuff: jars with mythology scenes painted on the sides, marble busts, a few statues and columns.

Among all the white stone and orange-and-black pottery, something glinted gold in the beam of Percy’s flashlight, something small and low to the ground.

Percy redirected the light to find whatever was shining was actually under the shelf, and he knelt to retrieve it.

It turned out to be a golden armband, engraved with a trident and wide enough to fit around Percy’s bicep, hidden under his T-shirt sleeve.

It was after Percy retrieved the armband he heard another door creak open. A security guard, making his rounds.

Percy had panicked. He’d run from the archives, taking nothing but the armband, barely remembering to take off the mask before he ran out on the street.

The next day a news story had run about a mysterious break into the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The doorknob had been bashed in with a brick, but nothing had been taken.

Percy barely managed to keep a straight face.

He was never questioned. No one even mentioned the incident after about a week. They assumed the security guard had walked in just as the would-be thief entered and had therefore scared them off.

A few months later, Percy and his mother moved into a new apartment.

Percy told no one about the armband. He hid it in his new room and only pulled it out to look at it when he was alone. He considered returning it to the museum but decided it was too risky. Besides, his mother had met and married Paul Blofis by then. They had Percy’s baby sister on the way. Percy was on track to get his dream job. The armband was of little consequence.

It wasn’t until a year ago he’d actually seen what it could do.

He’d put it on one day, alone in his new apartment. Jason was out for the day. It fit around his wrist now. He’d turned his arm back and forth, admiring the play of the light across the gold. He’d tapped it lightly with one finger.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in his room wearing a sea-green bodysuit, with a golden breastplate, boots and arm guards, and a golden trident strapped across his back. When he looked in the mirror, a green mask covered his face.

Percy spent several minutes cursing up a storm and stumbling around frantically trying to pull the costume off. He slapped the gold arm guard on his left arm, the same one he’d worn the band on, and found himself back in his normal clothes with a now-familiar bracelet on his wrist.

When he was no longer in shock, he’d experimented with the bracelet. 

Remembering where he’d found the thing and the trident were big clues, and Percy had discovered after taking a quick dip in the ocean that while wearing the costume he was impervious to cold. He’d also found he could breathe underwater and use the trident to control the sea.

(He found out completely by accident that he could use the trident to control fresh water, too, when he’d accidentally sprayed Shadowhunter in the face with water from the Hudson while battling some kind of demon called a Ravener. Percy preferred his own term of ‘ugly’.)

His first battle had been terrifying. A half man, half bull creature had been terrorizing people near the harbor, and Percy, coming back from getting ice cream, had seen his mother nearly get gored by the thing. He’d reacted on instinct, slapping his bracelet and charging into battle, defeating the monster by stabbing it with his trident. 

He was still surprised no one had seen him transform.

His second battle had been something called an empousa. The third battle was a Shax demon, and Percy probably would have been killed if Shadowhunter hadn't showed up in the nick of time. 

Red Knight had shown up at the fourth battle, also a demon, and before long the trio had declared themselves a team.

They still had solo fights every now and then, but more often than not, they fought together. He had no idea who they were outside of the masks and had given them no clue as to his civilian identity. It was safer that way.

Annabeth nudging him brought him out of his memories.

“You okay, Seaweed Brain? You zoned out for a second there.”

Percy smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a really long day.”

Annabeth smiled at him and got up to get a drink.

He told himself he didn't miss her warmth and took another swig.

**_…_ **

Magnus was having a crisis and an epiphany all at once.

So naturally, he called Clary Fray, his best friend since middle school and the sounding board for most of his ideas.

“Come on, Biscuit, pick up…” he muttered, pacing. His TV was paused behind him.

When Clary did pick up, she sounded exhausted. “Magnus, if you're inviting me out I have to decline…”

“No, I’m not inviting you out, I just had an idea.”

“Is this like an  _ I’m going to launch a fashion page on Instagram _ idea or an  _ I’m asking Camille out  _ idea?”

“I am offended, Biscuit. One of those happens to be a great idea.”

“The fashion page was a good idea, Magnus, Camille was not.”

“I know that  _ now _ .” Magnus huffed. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Fire away.”

Magnus knew he couldn’t tell her the full story, so he settled with half of it.

“I’m going to get an interview with Shadowhunter.”

Silence.

“Biscuit?”

Nothing.

“Clary?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to figure out if you’ve lost your mind.”

“Oh, that was lost a long time ago, Biscuit. I’m serious.”

“Why Shadowhunter? Why not Red Knight or Poseidon? You know,  _ the ones willing to talk to the press? _ ”

“Shadowhunter has information nobody else knows. If I can get him to tell me even a little more about the demons than we can protect ourselves better as civilians, and an article like that will get me noticed if I can pull it off.”

Magnus glanced at the TV screen again. He hoped Clary wouldn’t be able to tell he wasn’t telling the full truth.

“Magnus, I am telling you this as a friend. This is a bad idea. We know  _ nothing _ about Shadowhunter: for all we know he’s an awful person.”

“Then it's time New York learned that!”

Clary heaved an exasperated sigh. “You are insufferable.”

Magnus grinned. “I’m an opportunist, Biscuit.”

He could practically hear Clary’s eye roll.

He changed the subject. “How was the gallery today?”

Clary, who worked as a gallery manager, immediately groaned.

“The exhibition today was awful. I don't know what the owner sees in this artist, I seriously don't, he’s absolutely awful, and he’s  _ such a jerk _ . I’m considering getting Alec to get down there and do his ‘Army Glare’ while I’m talking to this guy, because I’m pretty sure Jace would deck him and I do  _ not  _ need my boyfriend arrested.”

Magnus’s lips curled up in a dreamy smile.

Clary paused then groaned.

“I can practically hear that look on your face.”

Magnus sighed. “Can you blame me?”

Clary muttered something about needing a new best friend.

Their conversation after that was normal, some more discussion about work and friends, making plans to meet up later in the week. Magnus managed not to sound like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. It was only when he went to hang up that Clary started to sound worried again.

“Magnus… if you do end up tracking down Shadowhunter,  _ be careful _ . We don’t know anything about him, and we know nothing about the things he fights. There’s a theory floating around that he  _ brought _ the demons here, and now he’s trying to cover up his mistake.”

Magnus quirked an eyebrow. “I doubt that’s true.”

He could practically feel Clary’s unease through the phone, so he summoned a reassuring tone.

“Don’t worry, Biscuit, I’ll be careful.”

They said goodbye and hung up. Magnus slumped against the wall of his apartment with a sigh.

Clary was right. No one knew anything about Shadowhunter.

_ Which is why I’ll be the first to find out _ . He told himself fiercely.

Magnus had never backed down from a challenge. It had gotten him into trouble sometimes, especially when he was young, but he refused to allow past failures to cow him.

Trapped in the Ads office, it felt sometimes like he was being suffocated, trapped down there in a itchy straitjacket and forced to turn out mindless, bland writings that stayed at the back of the paper, only glanced over.

A story with Shadowhunter could be his big break.

And maybe, if he could talk to Shadowhunter, maybe Magnus could get the hero to talk about Magnus’s father.

Magnus had met the man twice, the first time when he was about eight. He remembered a tall, somber man in dark clothes and a wicked smile, with dark hair and light, almost golden amber eyes.

Magnus’s eyes.

His father hadn’t told Magnus his name. He’d simply told him it was impossible for him to stay with Magnus’s mother, that he did not regret having Magnus, and that he was capable of great things.

The second time had been after Magnus found his mother dead.

She’d struggled with depression all her life, and though Magnus knew she loved him, she could be very distant. Magnus had found her when he was ten, after she’d slit her wrists in the bathtub. He could still remember the coppery smell of blood in the air.

His stepfather had returned home soon after, finding Magnus sobbing beside the bathtub. He’d hauled him off the floor, screamed at him, forced him to look at his mother's body with her wide-open, unseeing eyes and told him that this was his fault, that Magnus had caused this.

Then he’d tried to drown Magnus in New York Harbor.

Magnus couldn’t remember much after he had been pushed under the water, just his stepfather's unrelenting grip on the back of his neck and black gathering at the edges of his vision, before suddenly his stepfather's hands had disappeared and two different hands had grasped his shoulders, pulling him from the water.

It was his father, who gave him that same wicked smile. His grip on his shoulders was tight, not letting Magnus turn around. There was an odd burning smell in the air. 

His father was wearing a jacket, open over a bare chest. Magnus could see an oddly shaped scar over his heart, like a brand had been pressed there long ago.

His father saw where Magnus was looking.

“It’s called Enkeli,” he said, with another smile that unnerved rather than soothed Magnus.

He’d taken Magnus back home after that, declaring smoothly he’d found the boy being drowned and his stepfather had run off. The police who were there had taken Magnus into custody, and he’d grown up in foster care.

He hadn’t seen that symbol, Enkeli, again, until recently. 

Magnus looked at his TV screen again.

It was paused on the three heroes' pictures. Red Knight looked like he’d been pulled from the pages of a storybook, sword at the ready and poised to run. Poseidon was clearly in the act of jumping, face contorted in concentration. Shadowhunters picture had been taken from the back, and it was his picture Magnus inspected closely.

There, on the back of his neck, small but clear as day.

Tattooed on the back of Shadowhunters neck was the Enkeli symbol.

Magnus took a deep breath.

He had never been able to find that symbol again after his father had disappeared. It hadn’t been in any books or on any websites Magnus could find. 

Maybe this symbol was Magnus’s link to his father, to understanding his past. 

And so far, Shadowhunter was the only person who seemed to know anything about it.

**_…_ **

The second battle happened to be a pack of demons, and Annabeth was  _ ready _ .

Taking Percy's excellent advice to heart, she lurked around the sides of the battle, watching the heroes. As was usual when it came to demons, Shadowhunter was taking the lead, yelling instructions to the others. 

Red Knight grabbed a demon by the throat as it jumped at him, closing his fingers and crushing its throat. The thing let out a screaming gurgle as it died.

Poseidon stabbed another one with his trident, and it seemed to explode, covering him with sticky black liquid. Annabeth could hear him curse all the way from her hiding place in an alley.

Shadowhunter seemed to be the calmest, using his blade more than his bow for this battle. He barely flinched when that thick black liquid sprayed on him. He was fast and near-silent, save his yelling instructions to his fellow heroes, who were just as eager if not as disciplined as he was. He did use his bow a few times, like the time he nocked an arrow and shot a charging demon through the forehead with lightning speed and precision.

Soon enough, the demons were dispatched, and as usual, all three heroes ran off in separate directions, Poseidon heading straight for Annabeth’s alley. 

Now was her chance.

Annabeth waited until the guy had stepped into the alley before she stepped out.

“Poseidon?”

The guy jumped about a foot in the air and whipped around, trident leveled at Annabeth. Once he saw who she was he groaned and lowered the trident.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said, strapping his trident to his back. 

Up close, Annabeth was struck by this guy's height: he was a lot taller than he appeared from far away. He had messy black hair long enough to cover his ears and green eyes the color of his suit.

Poseidon wiped demon goo from his face. “How can I help you?”

Annabeth squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m Annabeth Chase from Pendragon News. Could I have a minute of your time?”

Poseidon gave an easy grin and leaned against one wall of the alley. “Sure. Have a few minutes, even.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes inwardly.

“I’m working on an article about the heroes.” she told him. “Red Knight has been interviewed before. I’d like to get your side.”

“Why not Shadowhunter’s side?” 

“I’m not sure I could catch Shadowhunter if I tried, and I doubt he’d grant me an interview if I did.”

Poseidon laughed. “Probably not. Well then.” He pushed his hair back. “What do you want to know?”

Annabeth gestured to his clothes. “Would you like to maybe clean up, first?”

Poseidon glanced down at himself and winced. “Probably a good idea.”

He glanced back up at Annabeth and seemed to come to a decision. 

“How about this...Annabeth, right? I’ll meet you back here in a couple of hours, when I’m not covered in… _ what does the ninja call this shit...  _ ICHOR! When I’m not covered in ichor and ready to talk. Deal?”

Annabeth was disappointed she wouldn’t be getting that interview now, but Poseidon was clearly exhausted and also, the ichor didn’t smell great. She nodded.

Poseidon smiled at her, and absurdly Annabeth’s cheeks heated slightly. Poseidon had an  _ incredible  _ smile.

“See you soon.” he said softly. 

Annabeth opened her mouth, but for some reason her vocal cords didn't want to work. She hastily cleared her throat, ignoring how Poseidon's grin grew bigger.

“See you soon.” she replied, then turned and hurried away, trying to keep her blush down.

She did not have time for this shit. He was an attractive guy, sure, but he was a hero, and she had no idea who he was under the mask. He could be a jerk or unstable.

Oddly enough, though, he reminded her of Percy. 

That had to be it. She was projecting her embarrassing crush on her best friend onto the closest available surrogate. That was all it was.

Annabeth squared her shoulders. 

In a couple of hours, she’d get her interview, and her life would start looking up.

**_…_ **

New York was peaceful tonight.

In an alley, the hero Poseidon gave his first ever interview to a journalist that would soon be known by all of New York City. 

Another journalist scanned Youtube carefully, specifically looking for rare, often blurry clips of the hero Shadowhunter. When he found them, he watched them, looking for any other strange symbols. 

The owner of a news company woke up with a start from a recurring dream. Across the city, his personal assistant did the same at the same moment. Both would lie awake for a while, pondering the meaning of these dreams, before trying again to fall asleep.

The journalist interviewing Poseidon tried to place why the hero’s smile seemed so familiar, and why it was so easy to banter with him.

New York's third hero was...welp, that's private. Steering away now, pretend we didn’t see that. 

Deep in the city’s underground, however, trouble was brewing.

A man sat in the basement of an abandoned building. There were bookshelves lining the walls, texts on Greek mythology and medieval history. Other books had no titles, but symbols of the spines. These were books too frightening for the normal mind, full of ways to summon creatures reduced to myths and fairytales, pages containing symbols handed down from a power too great to comprehend, spells long forgotten. 

The man was unassuming enough, except for his eyes, almost golden and full of malice, and his wicked, unsettling grin. He wore a black shirt, open over a bare chest, and black pants. Over his heart was an oddly shaped scar.

This man's name was Asmodeus.

He was sitting back in his chair, almost a throne, his legs crossed. Open on his lap was a heavy book, and he was murmuring words he read off the page, in a language that had fallen from human memory.

In front of him was a table, and on the table was a lit candle. The flame was oddly steady and bright, seeming to burn brighter as the man spoke.

Suddenly, he looked up, eyes brightening.

“Ah.” he said. “It has begun.”

He smiled. 

“Albion calls to you, King Arthur.” he murmured. “It is said that with you a new Camelot shall rise, when the world is most in need.”

The smile gained a sharp edge.

“I hope you don't mind if I stop you.”

He closed the book and stood, walking to a bookshelf to slide it into place.

“My demons and monsters don’t seem to be working hard enough.” he mused. “They are full of grudges from long-dead times, too narrow-minded to see the full scale of my plan.”

Something crossed his mind. The smile deepened to a scowl.

“I feel the magic of the earth. Emrys walks again. If only I could find him… I could find the King too. He guards you, as he did in your first lives, even if neither of you realize it.”

One hand lifted to trace his scar.

“There is Shadowhunter. He has studied the arts I was denied. He carries runes I cannot touch. He will be a challenge, but not impossible. And then there is Poseidon… he has not unlocked his full power yet. I must strike now, while he is vulnerable.”

The candle flickered. Asmodeus pulled another book from the shelf, and opened it.

The page was just visible in the dying candlelight. 

_ When monsters rise from ancient days, _

_ And demons cry for blood and rage, _

_ When trouble brews and evil burns, _

_ There will be two ways for the world to turn. _

_ A knight will come from long ago, _

_ He is evil's greatest foe; _

_ A hunter from the shadows hour, _

_ Holding runes of angels power. _

_ A god from deep beneath will rise, _

_ Who has the strength to turn the tides. _

_ A man with sight, a girl, a mage, _

_ Together will write history’s next page. _

_ The world will fall or will be saved, _

_ By the line of the stars and the wish of the Fates. _

He shut the book with a decisive nod.

“The Fates can be bent to my will.” he murmured. 

He replaced the book he was holding and reached for another one.

“I can’t find them or kill them outright. But I can begin to destroy them.”

He opened the book. 

“Brace yourself, my King. Your warlock cannot protect you from bad memories.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for all the people asking if its over: I have no idea how long this story is going to be but I promise this is not the end!

_ Arthur was standing in front of a bright light, looking at his father. _

_ His body was weighed down with chainmail, but unlike in his Red Knight costume his face was uncovered and he wore no cape. He held a hunting horn in his hand. _

_ Uther stood tall and forbidding as he’d always been, even after Alzheimers. He too, Arthur noted absently, was wearing odd clothes straight from a fairytale or history book. He seemed to be standing in front of a light as well, as though they were standing between two doorways. _

_ Tears stung Arthur's eyes and fell down his face. He couldn’t quite catch every word Uther said to him, but he caught the gist. Uther was calling him weak, unfit to rule, stated that his people could not respect him as king. _

_ (Something in the back of his mind; king?) _

_ The weight of his father's anger and disappointment grew crushing.  _

_ His father turned to leave. Arthur opened his mouth to call out to him… _

...and jerked awake in bed, sitting bolt upright with a gasp, soaked in sweat and shaking.

It was still dark outside. Arthur instinctively rose from bed and went to his window, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars…

Except he’d never found solace in the stars, not that he could see them in the middle of New York City.

Arthur sighed and pushed a hand through his hair.

He had no idea what was going on recently. The dreams of the woman calling him to Albion had disappeared, and now he was plagued with what felt like bad memories from a long time ago.

He had no idea where they came from, but they often felt like mirrors of his own worst memories, just with swords and armor for some reason.

He wondered if his pendant had something to do with the theme of these dreams.

The most recent one reminded him of his last talk with his father, when Uther had told him, in a rare lucid moment, that he was angry with Arthur for ruining the company he’d built from the ground up. He raved about Arthur hiring new lawyers instead of keeping on the old ones.

Arthurs arguments that the old legal team had been corrupt and intent on serving their own needs and not the company’s had fallen on deaf ears.

Uther was angry about Arthur hiring Gavin, an old college friend, and Pierce, a struggling boxer, claiming they made the company look weak. Elijah, the cameraman, he accused Arthur of hiring to win Gwen back.

Arthur's protests that he and Gwen were just friends were waved aside.

All meetings with his father went horribly, but Arthur was praying that just once, Uther would say he was proud of him.

His cheeks were suddenly damp. Arthur angrily brushed tears away.

He wished he could call Gwen and tell her everything. She had always been his confidant even after they’d broken up and she’d started dating Lance, Arthur's oldest childhood friend. The only problem was that Gwen was a nurse, and she would probably have Arthur committed if he told her about these dreams.

Oddly enough, the other person he wanted to call was Merlin.

Merlin hadn’t worked with him long, but Arthur felt like he’d known the man forever. They fell together easily, their friendship clicking into place like a puzzle piece Arthur hadn’t been aware was missing from his universe. Merlin, having been childhood friends with Gavin and Gwen, fell into the rest of Arthurs friend group easily, and soon Arthur could barely remember his life before Merlin.

(Random thought popped into his head: something about coins?)

He unlocked his phone, about to call Merlin. His friend might laugh at him but at least Arthur would have told someone, and maybe Merlin would have some sage advice for him. He had a habit of saying the deepest, most intelligent things before ruining the moment with something idiotic.

That was when Arthur noticed the time.

_ 2 am. Shit. _

Merlin hadn’t been sleeping well. Arthur had been too preoccupied with the new strange dreams to notice at first, but over the past week he’d noticed bags under Merlin’s eyes that were getting darker and more pronounced as time wore on.

It would be rude to call him now, especially if he was getting little enough sleep as it was. Besides, Arthur remembered, he’d given Merlin a day off, something about visiting his uncle.

Arthur sighed and resigned himself to being awake. There was no way he could sleep now.

He went into his kitchen to make himself some coffee and tried to push the memories back.

**_…_ **

If anyone had asked where Morgan Pendragon was at 2 am, the answer would usually be  _ sleeping _ . Her boyfriend would have said she was working, since she wasn't in bed and she definitely had a problem with working too much when it came to Pendragon News and her job of running the legal team.

In truth, Morgan was doing none of those things.

She’d snuck out of her and Leo’s apartment around 1:30. She’d taken the subway to a crumbling apartment building in a bad part of the city.

And now here she was, in front of an apartment door in dire need of a new coat of paint in a hallway that reeked of something she didn't care to identify.

She knocked. The door swung open.

“Hello, sister.”

The young woman standing on the other side of the door didn't look like Morgan’s sister. Where Morgan's hair was dark, this woman's was blonde. Morgan had blue eyes and this woman had brown. But looking closely at their faces, one was struck by the similarities there.

Morgan stepped forward into a tight embrace.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!” she half sobbed.

She hadn’t seen Margo in a week, and was surprised how quickly her previously-unknown sister had come to mean to her.

Margo returned the embrace just as tightly, burying her face in Morgan’s shoulder and inhaling deeply.

“I’ve missed you too.” she said softly. “This week has been hell.”

She stepped back, pulling Morgan into her apartment. “I don’t want to lose you so soon after finding you again.”

“You’ll never lose me.” Morgan swore. “I’m never letting you go, especially after everything you’ve shared.”

Margo smiled at her, then pulled her to sit on the old, moth-eaten sofa in her living room.

“I wish you’d let me help you find a nicer place.” Morgan said softly. “You’re my sister. You shouldn't have to live like this.”

“I don’t want your money, Morgan. I want you, here with me, together like we were always supposed to be if Uther hadn’t torn us apart.”

Morgan felt her jaw clench. 

“I hate him.” she hissed. 

Margo gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

“What of our mission, sister? Have you found any trace of Emrys?”

Morgan sighed and shook her head.

“I’m sorry…”

“Do not be sorry.” Margo soothed. “He evaded us for years. I’ve never laid eyes on him.”

Morgan gripped her sister's hand tighter.

“I can find him...I’ve been having dreams. He’s an old man who wears red, and he appears sad.”

“That's a good start.” Margo said, smiling. “You are sure you cannot remember his name?”

Morgan shook her head. “No. I remember Mordred telling me...but I can never hear the name. I just know I know it. It must be one of his knights. That's why he wears red.”

“A good theory, sister.” Margo praised. “We will find them, one by one. We cannot allow your brother to take what is rightfully yours. You are the Queen of Camelot, and as long as he is kept in the dark about his past, your path to the throne is unobstructed and clear.”

Morgan hesitated.

“What troubles you?” Margo pressed, scooting closer and putting an arm around her.

“What happens if I take the throne?”

Margo smiled.

“Magic is released back into the world. Those that have been forced to hide their gift will rise again. You will rule not just Camelot, but Albion itself. You were born again, we were led together, so we could rewrite history and take what is rightfully yours.”

Morgan smiled.

“Sister...tell me my name again.”

Margo smiled back and leaned close, whispering in her ear.

“In your first life, you were called Morgana.”

“Morgana.” Morgan tried it out. The name felt familiar and brought flashes of memory: the feel of silk and velvet, a sword in her hand, magic itching at her fingertips.

“I wish I knew who killed you.” Margo said softly.

“All I know is it wasn’t Arthur.” Morgan replied. “He was weak and ill. It was someone else. I see their face in my dreams… but I cannot remember it when I wake.”

Margo squeezed her shoulder. “You will. My memory came back in pieces as well. I thought I was going crazy. Then I felt I must be the only one left, until I saw you on the news.”

Morgan laughed at the memory. She’d been brought on camera to give a statement two months ago, to explain to the people why suing the heroes for property damage was a fruitless undertaking.

(The amount of people who tried this was staggering.)

After that had aired, Morgan had received a message on Instagram from a girl claiming to be her half-sister. She’d given Morgan details most people wouldn’t know, like their mothers name, Elaine, her sister's name Vivian, and Greg, Elaine’s first husband and Margo’s father.

The sisters had met for dinner and Margo had explained that when Elaine and Greg divorced, Margo had been sent to live with her father. Elaine and Uther had married, Arthur had been born, then Morgana a year later, and then Elaine had died. Uther had immediately cut off contact with Greg and Margo, focusing all his attention on Arthur. Morgan had spent her life feeling snubbed by both father and brother until she’d met Margo.

Only a few days later Morgan had confided in her sister about the strange dreams she’d had since childhood, and Margo had explained; she was not Morgan but  _ Morgana _ , a sorceress from Arthurian legend reincarnated. Margo had explained that she’d seen the signs first in Arthur, the legendary Once and Future King, reincarnated at the time of Albion's most desperate need, as magic both good and evil woke again.

The only problem was, where Arthur was, Emrys followed.

Emrys was a legendary sorcerer, Margo explained. The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. With Emrys at Arthurs side, there was no way Morgan could reclaim her title as Queen, and no way she could bring magic and the users of magic back into the world, as it had been in the old days when followers of the Old Religon were powerful. There was no way, with Emrys’s identity unknown, that Arthur could be killed.

There was a man, Margo said, who was a devoted student of the Old Religon. It had lain dormant all these years, keeping monsters and demons and magic mostly in check. The things that did escape had been kept in check by other heroes, who until now had also been hiding in the shadows of an ignorant world.

_ It is your destiny, sister, to bring the Old Religion back into the light. _ Margo had said.  _ Myself and this man will be your advisors.  _

_ What is the man’s name? _ Morgan had asked.

“Sister.” Margo broke into her thoughts. “I didn’t just ask you here for an update on your search for Emrys. I have news from Asmodeus.”

Morgan snapped to attention. “What news?”

“It’s good news...we think. Asmodeus says he’s heard rumours of someone else, a former hero who wants to join our cause.”

“Who is it?” Morgan asked.

“He calls himself Kronos.”

**_…_ **

Merlin took a deep breath.

The brownstone he stood in front of held some good memories: homework on the front steps, skateboarding with Gavin, playing hopscotch with Gwen when they were little. He’d had his first kiss on these steps, been accepted to college here at this mailbox. This was his childhood home.

But there were some bad memories too. His mother dying. His father's first and only phone call, to tell Merlin he was dying of cancer and he was so very proud of him. Coming out, only to be beaten to a pulp by a local gang and dragging himself bleeding and barely conscious to his front door. 

Visiting always took a bit of a toll on him, but he needed advice, and his uncle Gaius was always there.

Merlin suppressed a snicker as he walked up the steps. His uncle had been Uncle Jay for years, a respected doctor, until one day he just retired with his substantial savings, changed his name to Gaius, and began practicing natural medicine, though he was quick to send anybody with any real ailments straight to the hospital. When Merlin had asked why the name change, Gaius had given him a mysterious look and started talking loudly about other things. Merlin got the message and dropped the subject.

Merlin knocked. The door flew open.

“Merlin!”

Gaius stood beaming at him, in his usual uniform of a sweater and slacks, his gray hair drawn back from his face. He pulled Merlin into a tight hug, then ushered him inside.

The inside hadn’t changed at all. There was still the same collection of pictures in the front hallway: Hannah holding baby Merlin at the hospital, Gaius’s fiancee Alice who had died in a car crash two days before their wedding, Merlin at five years old covered in mud with Gavin, his high school graduation with Gwen, Merlin riding a bike for the first time, his college graduation picture. 

There was a new picture, set away from the others, that caught his eye.

It was a watercolor painting of a bustling market, with a castle looming over it all. Merlin leaned closer. It felt familiar, but he was sure he’d never seen it before...

“Lovely, isn’t it?” said Gaius, making Merlin jump about a foot in the air.

“Uh, yeah.” he said. “Where did you get it?”

“A neighbor painted it for me.” Gaius said. His head was tilted to the side and he was eyeing Merlin with the look he sometimes gave him: like he was seeing straight through Merlin's bullshit and right into his soul.

Then he smiled, and the moment was gone.

“It’s called Camelot.” he said. “Now, come into the kitchen and tell me about your new job.”

Merlin did so, informing his uncle about the ups and downs of being a personal assistant, filling him in on Gavin’s antics and on Gwen and Lance’s wedding plans. To his dismay, Gaius followed the #hotnewsanchor on Twitter and apparently checked it every morning after the news over tea. He found it absolutely hilarious. 

“Im glad Gavin’s done so well for himself.” Gaius said. There was a silence in the kitchen for a moment as both men remembered Gavins darker days, before Arthur had offered him a job. Only a year later, Gavin, now using therapy instead of alcohol to deal with his problems and with a steady, well-paying job, had pestered Merlin to also get a job there, and the rest was history.

The bad dreams he’d been having recently, like horrible memories from another time, Merlin elected not to bring up. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Gaius said. His voice was casual, but his eyes were intent on Merlins face. “What do you think about the heroes?”

Merlin blinked. “The heroes?”

“Yes, the heroes. Red Knight, Poseidon, Shadowhunter.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m glad they’re here, especially with everything going on, though you would not believe the kind of stupid crap people call in speculating about... _ Gaius! _ ”

Gaius had knocked over his teacup, and it was plummeting to the ground, spilling tea everywhere. 

Merlin jumped up, unsure what he was going to do… and then the cup froze in midair.

Panic immediately slammed into Merlins gut. He still couldn’t control this magic...

The cup unfroze, falling the rest of the way to the ground and shattering.

“Oh.” said Gaius, his voice calm. “How clumsy of me. I’ll get the broom.”

Merlins heart was racing, practically pounding a tattoo behind his ribs. Was it possible Gaius hadn’t noticed?

His phone buzzed, and Merlin scrambled to answer it, glad for a distraction. 

The text from Arthur he’d received wiped all thought of the incident from his mind.

**Cabbagehead: Annabeth Chase secured an interview with Poseidon. Article processing now.**

**Merlin: u better promote her**

**Cabbagehead: I plan to. Also, Merlin, punctuation and proper spelling is a thing. As is capitalization.**

**Merlin: i write a lot of the material for the show and help u proofread and edit articles prat dont talk to me about punctuation and spelling**

**Cabbagehead: You know, Merlin, there arent many PA’s who get to help the editor. Obviously it would be too much for you to say thank you.**

Merlin sent him a peacock emoji and looked up to find Gaius, broom and dustpan in hand, considering him.

“Is that a new boyfriend, Merlin?”

Merlin sputtered. 

“No! No, nope, absolutely not, definitely not a boyfriend. That’s my boss. From work. Texting me about. Work things.” He felt his cheeks flaming red.

His phone buzzed again, and Merlin looked down at it to avoid his uncles piercing stare and raised eyebrow.

**Cabbagehead: Merlin, is that your version of flipping me off?**

**Merlin: no i just thought he might be ur cousin**

**Cabbagehead: How would a peacock be my cousin?**

**Merlin: the posturing is similar**

Arthur sent him his own peacock emoji and Merlin found himself grinning stupidly.

He looked back up to find Gaius eyeing him knowingly, but blessedly he said nothing.

Okay, so Merlin had a  _ tiny  _ crush on his boss. Who wouldnt have a crush on someone who looked like Arthur Pendragon?

Besides, with all the other shit going on in his life right now, Arthurs blonde hair and warm smile were the last thing on his mind.

He gave his head a little shake to get Arthur out of it. Annabeth had secured an interview with  _ Poseidon _ . This was huge. Ratings on the morning and evening show were sure to skyrocket and Merlin was sure newspaper sales would increase as well. 

Annabeth was sure to get a promotion to literally anywhere of her choice. Merlin would tell her the next day. She’d be ecstatic.

**_…_ **

Gaius turned his back on Merlin to dump the shards of teacup into the trash, conveniently also concealing his grin.

Things were beginning to fall into place.

He didn’t know who Poseidon or Shadowhunter were, but there was no question who Red Knight was. The Old Religion was stirring, waking up after fifteen hundred years. Merlin’s magic was reawakening. 

He thought of the book he’d concealed upstairs, waiting for this day to come. He’d have to find a way to deliver it to Merlin, the same way he’d delivered Arthurs pendant to him.

His smile faded a bit as something else came to mind.

If Merlin’s magic was reawakening, it was possible Morgana had begun to learn who she was. He hoped Merlin could help her this time, but if Morgause had gotten to her again it was possible Morgana was already lost. He prayed his nephew wouldnt have to fight her again. 

He prayed Merlin and Arthur would soon answer the call to Albion, like he had. Like Morgause had. Like he was sure Morgana would soon, if she was once again under her sisters tutelage. Merlin needed to know who he was before Morgana did. Gaius shivered to think of the consequences should that not work.

For now, though, he had to trust in the power of the Old Religion. He had to trust the Lady of the Lake. He had to trust their instinct to protect each other and their city would pull them to Albion.

Once there, they would get their answers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Poseidon’s interview with Annabeth Chase was front page news the next day, exclusively in any Pendragon News media outlet. Superhero enthusiasts poured from the woodwork waving copies of the paper and yelling theories.

In the interview, Poseidon disclosed a few powers only hinted at in previous interviews or battles, like Red Knights superstrength and Shadowhunters speed. Poseidon explained that the heroes didn’t know each other’s identities and kept it that way to protect themselves. He also divulged that the heroes were working together to study these monsters and find out how to stop them.

The interview was brief, but it gave the public more details they had been dying to know. After Gavin and Pierce talked about it on the morning talk show, the hashtag #poseidon started trending all over Twitter and Instagram. 

(Gavin would deny to his grave that he was a little salty about #poseidon taking over #hotnewsanchor.)

Annabeth was hailed as a hero when she got into work that morning. She was given a promotion personally by Arthur Pendragon the moment she stepped through the doors, and she relished the glares from her coworkers in Sports when she packed up her desk to move to the Supers section of the office, where she was welcomed by Mithian, the reporter who Red Knight had given all his exclusive interviews to.

(Everyone was so busy gossiping about Annabeth that they didn't notice that Arthur Pendragon seemed a little distracted.)

Percy took the day off work along with Piper and Leo, hiding a smile while his friends gushed about Annabeth's big break while they put together a celebration party. 

The best reaction, though, came from Magnus, who came into Annabeth’s new office while Mithian was out to personally offer congratulations. 

The minute the door closed behind him, he rushed over to Annabeth's desk and said “How did you do it?”

Annabeth, taken aback by Magnus’s intensity, blinked up at him for a second.

“Well?” Magnus asked after a moment of silence. His flawless cat eye eyeliner (Piper followed the guy on Instagram and was always gushing about his makeup skills) only seemed to make his honey-gold eyes more intense, practically boring a hole in Annabeth's own eyes.

“I… well, it's kind of embarrassing, but I hid in an alley where they were battling and caught him before he transformed. He was actually very nice about it.”

Magnus scowled. “I should have thought of that.”

Annabeth was still a little confused. “Did you...want an interview with Poseidon, too?”

Magnus blinked, coming back down to Earth. “With Poseidon? No, not with him.”

Annabeth's phone rang. Magnus looked a little relieved and shot Annabeth his usual Instagram- worthy grin.

“Congratulations, Annabeth. You deserve this.”

Annabeth caught the hint of envy, but she could also tell his congratulations was sincere, so she smiled in thanks and picked up her still-ringing phone.

The number was unrecognized, so Annabeth answered, figuring it was spam or maybe a wrong number.

“This is Annabeth Chase.” she said into the speaker, waving as Magnus left the office.

“Hey, Annabeth.”

Her breath froze in her lungs and she felt her eyes widen impossibly.

The person on the other end chuckled. “Sorry, did I scare you? Got a new phone number.”

Annabeth’s whole body was numb, but she barely managed to choke out “ _ Luke? _ ”

She could practically hear Luke’s smile. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s good to hear from you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart rate. “How did you get my number?”

Luke sounded a little smug, now. “You aren’t that hard to track down, Annabeth. You put your number on Craigslist when you were selling your old laptop.”

Her heart rate was not calming down. “That was over a year ago.”

“Yeah, it was. I held onto it. Figured now was a great time to call you. Good job getting that interview! Gotta say, I never saw you as a journalist.”

Annabeth's jaw clenched, her fear and surprise suddenly turning to anger. Luke was treading on  _ extremely  _ thin ice.

“Well.” she said, her voice sharp and cold. “That's what happens when money runs out.”

Again that chuckle. It sent a shiver of revulsion through her stomach. 

“What, did you refuse help from your dad? Or mom? You know, that pride of yours is going to get you killed…”

“I almost died.” Annabeth snapped. “Because of you, I spent my college fund on medical bills and years of therapy, both physical and mental.”

Luke sighed, like he was hoping she wouldn't bring that up. “Annabeth…”

“My parents spent years trying to find you with private investigators.” Annabeth hissed. “Then you show up again later and try to kill Percy? Cops suspect you tried to kill him years earlier, when he was  _ eleven _ !?”

“That scorpion was not my fault.” Luke argued. “I went to get help…”

_ “You left him there!”  _

“I figured I had a better chance of getting help faster if I wasn't carrying him!”

“And me?” Annabeth ground out. “What about me? I was thirteen.”

Luke was silent.

“Thirteen.” Annabeth said flatly. “You left me, trapped, holding up a  _ one hundred and seventy six pound boulder _ , alone in the woods,  _ for two straight days _ . I only survived because Percy knew something was wrong, found me, and held the boulder for me until a  _ girl’s archery club _ showed up and got it off of both of us. Two days, Luke. You know those woods. And then, you know what you did then?”

Still silence on the other end of the line.

“ _ You disappeared.”  _

“Annabeth…”

“Disappeared. We couldn't find you. We thought you’d died going to get help. Then you showed up,  _ three years later _ , and tried to  _ kill Percy _ ?!”

Annabeth’s voice never rose when she was angry, but she could feel it wobbling on the edge of raising now. She wanted to scream until all of the pain, confusion, betrayal and tears of all that time poured out of her mouth and into Luke. 

She opened her mouth...

_ Click. _

Annabeth bit back a scream of frustration.

She needed to call Percy. He deserved to know the guy who’d almost killed him was back in town.

**_…_ **

Morgause was on a walk.

She’d taken the day off work, and received a warning for it. She’d used up almost all of her sick and vacation time.

She didn't care. Soon enough, the world would tremble at her feet.

She’d bought coffee from Starbucks, and carried an extra in her hand. Unlike her, Morgana couldn't just take the day off work. She had to actually wait for her lunch break, avoid spending it with her boyfriend, field calls from her father and brother. Morgause rolled her eyes. 

Her dear sister would be able to leave that life behind soon enough.

Morgana suddenly came up the path, smiling in relief.

“There you are.” she said, stepping forward to hug Morgause tightly. “Sorry, a meeting ran over.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Morgause told her, handing her her coffee. “I’m glad to see you, dear sister.”

Morgana’s smile was soft. “I’m glad to see you too.” She took Morgause’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “When the time comes and all this sneaking around is over, we can actually be at each other's side always, as it was meant to be.”

“I can’t wait.” Morgause said, smiling back. Morgana’s happiness and safety had always been her primary goal in their first life, and it seemed that that protective feeling hadn’t faded away even in this new life.

“I took the rest of the day off, told Arthur I was meeting with a client.” Morgana told her as they set off down the path. “Why did you call me here, sister? I’ve been dying with curiosity these past few nights.”

Morgause checked over her shoulder. Everyone was absorbed in their phones, as usual. They were safe from eavesdroppers. Still, to make certain, she pulled her sister closer under the guise of looping her arm through Morgana’s.

“We are meeting Kronos here. Asmodeus said he would be nearby. If he is truly genuine about joining our cause, sister, he will be a great help, and a great insight into the monsters neither I nor Asmodeus know about.”

Morgana nodded. “How will we know who he is?”

Morgause smiled at her sister and took another quick look around. 

_ “Gefind Kronos.”  _ she whispered. Her eyes glowed gold.

A golden trail shimmered into existence, starting where the sisters walked arm in arm and stretching along the path ahead. Sharing a look, the two continued.

They walked for a few minutes, following the trail. Everyone else at the park didn't seem to care, too absorbed in their books, phones, music, each other, themselves to notice what was happening. 

The trail led them to a young man sitting on a bench, toying with a phone in his hands and staring off into space. A scarred cheek marred his otherwise handsome face, and his smile, when he looked up and saw the sisters standing in front of him, was sharp as a backbiting blade. 

“I am Morgause.” Morgause said by way of an introduction. “This is my sister, Morgana.”

That sharp smile grew a little wider.

“I’m Kronos.” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

**_…_ **

Magnus was taking Annabeth’s advice.

Sort of.

(He was too impatient to actually wait for a battle to happen, so he was...okay yeah, this was a bad idea.)

Magnus had decided to walk around the area demons had recently hit hard, trying to catch Shadowhunter on patrol. He’d been seen in the area recently, silently and swiftly patrolling the alleyways and buildings at night.

So Magnus had decided to go walk around New York City at night. 

Yeah. Bad idea.

Magnus had been trying to lose his new shadow for three blocks, but the dude tracking him proved impossible to shake: he just kept popping up behind Magnus, hands in his pockets, casually strolling along, eyes fixed with unwavering intensity on Magnus’s back. 

Magnus had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do. He was not afraid to fight, but the guy was a couple inches taller and outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. He had no desire to get his face rearranged. 

He did his best to appear unruffled and unafraid, only checking behind him occasionally to see if the guy was still following him. He was so focused on trying to lose him he didn't even notice where he was until a hand closed around his elbow and he was yanked sideways.

  
  


The creepy guy had sped up and was pulling Magnus into an alley, victorious smirk covering his face as he pushed him up against the wall. 

“Let go of me.” Magnus stammered. The guy was really strong and his grip on Magnus’s arm wasn’t budging.

“Give me your wallet and I’ll think about it.” the guy replied. Magnus felt the blunt barrel of a gun dig into his side.

“I don’t have any money.” Magnus told him, squirming against the tightening grip. “Look, man, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone…”

The gun dug harder into his side. “You wanna die? Money.  _ Now _ .”

Magnus caught the sound of a footstep and a blur of black over the guys shoulder.

The guy was suddenly ripped off of Magnus with a yell, and Magnus, shaking with adrenaline and fear, couldn’t make out who his savior was until they had his attacker pinned against the opposite wall of the alley.

It was Alec in all his glory, one  _ very _ nice forearm across the guy's throat, lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl, his voice low and controlled.

“He. Said. Let. Go.” 

The guy tried to offer a disarming smile. “Look, man, I was just…”

He was cut off when Alec pressed his arm harder into his throat, cutting off his airway.

“Just leaving.” Alec said smoothly. His voice dropped back to controlled anger with deadly precision. “Go home and don’t bother anyone. Shadowhunter hangs around here… and I hear he’s quick with a knife.”

He shifted to grab the guy by the front of his shirt, practically throwing him out of the alley, then turned to Magnus. 

“Are you okay?”

He winced.

“That’s a dumb question. Are you hurt?”

Magnus took stock. His head ached a bit where it had slammed into the alley wall and his arm throbbed where the guy had gripped, but other than that, he wasn't hurt. He mutely shook his head, too shaken to speak aloud at the moment.

Alec stepped closer to him, eyes alight with concern. “Can I call someone for you? A friend? An ambulance?”

It was the most words Alec had ever spoken to Magnus, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that Alec’s display of strength and immediate flip to caring and protective was doing  _ things  _ to him despite his close shave.

“I’m better now that you're here, Alexander.” he said. “Thank you.”

Alec immediately blushed and averted his eyes.

“Y’you’re welcome. Uh. No problem.” he muttered.

Magnus mustered up a smile, pushing himself away from the wall. He gave Alec a once-over (tight black T-shirt  _ hello biceps _ and jeans hugging his long legs,  _ oh hell yes _ ) and gave him a suggestive tilt of his head.

“There is one thing you could do for me, if that's okay.”

“Anything.” Alec said immediately, then turned bright red and muttered “I mean yeah, sure, cool. Whatever.”

Magnus barely managed to stifle a laugh. 

“I need a drink.” he told him. “Care to join me?”

Alec looked around for a second, then visibly came to a decision. He straightened, took a breath, and looked Magnus in the eye.

“Sure.” he said. “Sounds fun.”


End file.
